


The Place of Hope

by acinaciform



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Music, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual background ships, Explicit Language, F/M, Hope, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Canon Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Original Character(s), Original Quests, Slow Burn, Spirits, The Breach (Dragon Age), The Fade, before the breach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acinaciform/pseuds/acinaciform
Summary: When a pulse of energy sweeps through the Fade, Arianna finds herself in the mythical world of Thedas. With help, she will master her newfound abilities and direct them towards a better future—or die trying. Can she restore hope to a blighted world, or will the Dread Wolf destroy it all?------The story starts before the Breach.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Solas & Original Female Character(s), Solas/OC, Solas/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78





	1. Into the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I've been planning this plotline out for a while now, but I only now gained the courage to post it. This is my first time posting, so any comments are appreciated!
> 
> I've been obsessed with the Dragon Age Universe for more than six years now. However, I sadly do not own any rights to Dragon Age.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

The birds stopped singing on Ari's walk home, but rushing tires and the closing notes to _Little Talks_ masked their abrupt silence.

Today had been as dull as any other day. Her alarm tried to rouse her from her sleep with artificial birds and wind chimes, and she killed it until the last possible minute. She then rolled out of bed, washed the sand from her eyes, and trudged to the office. After hours of bad coffee, forced conversation, and fiddling in Excel, she slipped on her coat, plugged in her earbuds, and clocked out. "Here's to another weekend!" she'd said with a short wave to anyone left. A resounding cheer followed her into the elevator and cut off as the doors closed behind her. She'd looked at the blurry reflection of her tired, blue eyes in the silver wall and sighed as the weight of her performance caught up with her.

She kept her eyes glued to the sidewalk as she left the building, fingers fidgeting with the lint in her jacket. As the monotony consumed her, she'd began thinking about change, about going back to college and taking a different path. She'd gained an interest in astronomy when her parents gifted her a telescope powerful enough to see Orion's nebula. At least as an astronomer, she'd be searching for something _new._

A few months ago, she'd started walking through the historic quarter of the city to break routine. The archaic and sometimes crumbling architecture tugged at her idle imagination. Each building felt unique compared to the towers of glass and metal in the Uptown district. The stone buildings and swooping arches were part of an adventure, each a part of some ancient ruin or the castle of a reclusive nobleman with a dark secret.

Now, the old buildings that had inspired her were simply that: old, another part of her self-made rut.

Her music ended, replaced with a musical ad for car insurance. She scowled and paused beneath the awning of an antique store, waiting for the salvation of the skip button. The autumn breeze found its way under her jacket, prickling at her skin. She felt the pressure of the day building behind her eyes and she shook her head to clear the impending fog.

As her finger hovered over the screen, a blinding flash and the sound of shattering forced her from her thoughts. Her eyes jerked up as glass scattered across the sidewalk, along with the remains of a porcelain doll once displayed the now empty bay window. She inched closer to peer inside, bundling her phone in the cord of her earbuds and shoving them in her jacket.

Shadows cloaked the room, but from where she stood the entire shop looked like the aftermath of a tornado. Tables stood on crumpled legs, contents strewn across the floor in piles of broken lamps and cracked china. The debris faced outward, as though a shockwave forced its way from the depths of the store; and yet, she saw no evidence of fire or smoke. 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, "Hello? Is everyone alright in there?"

No response.

She glanced around for other witnesses to the "explosion" and, upon finding no one, stepped through the window. As her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she noticed a faint, pulsating glow and the pressure in her head pushed her forward.

She stepped gingerly over the rubble and winced as the crunch of broken lightbulbs pierced the looming silence. As the glow grew closer, the pressure grew stronger but she couldn't turn back. Her fingers clasped a heavy tarp and slung it aside to reveal a mirror, etched with ornate filigree and almost tall enough to touch the ceiling. The glass shimmered like the surface of a pond with every pulse of light. When she squinted, she could see a tinge of green.

Something moved.

She gasped and recoiled, but the pressure sharpened. She couldn't help the wordless cry that escaped her lips as she raised her hands to her temples.

_I have to get out of here._

She turned, but a gnarled and twisted hand burst forth from the mirror and curled around her wrist. It pulled her with unnatural force and silenced her scream as it plunged her into the light.

She screwed her eyes shut as she moved through what felt like the face of a waterfall, but the cooling sensation ended when her senses flooded with gasoline and decay. The pressure increased tenfold and a wave of nausea overtook her. She fell to her knees and the icy grip around her wrist tightened.

_“Yes, child. Let go.”_

The hoarse voiced permeated the air and a chill crept up her spine like thousands of tiny insects crawling on her skin. She strained to open her eyes. The ground beneath her was a dark grey, as though the color had been ripped from the rocks and replaced with slimy filth. Green fumes rose from the dirt and her gaze followed them up to the rags of the... _thing_ that held her in place. 

She had to stop herself from retching when she laid eyes on its abhorrent face, the decrepit remains of a dead mole rat. Grey skin clung unsteadily around its maw, filled with rows upon rows of rotting teeth. A tattered hood covered the rest of its features, assuming it had any.

_“Let me lift your burden, child. Let me take your pain.”_

Its mouth never moved, but its voice echoed through her mind and sent a shudder through her body. It lifted its mangled hand and reached to touch her face. She flinched as its icy fingers dug into the flesh beneath her chin, muzzling her.

_“You will never be more than what you are. Why cling to hope when you can embrace the dark?”_

The pressure began to dull at its words. It was right, wasn't it? College riddled her with debt and necessity pushed her into a boring career. The only way to change was to keep working until she paid off her loans and magically saved enough to get a different degree. She needed a miracle.

The realization made her numb. She could feel herself sinking. The cold threatened to overtake her and she wasn't sure if fighting would be worth the effort.

_“There is freedom in Despair.”_

Something snapped her back to awareness. The pressure returned and the numbness retreated, replaced with a heat building in her core.

_No._

The monster hissed and jerked away, cradling its hands. She rose and leveled a glare at the shadows beneath its hood.

_Not here._

The heat surged through her body like a river breaking free from the mountain ice. An energy reached her fingertips, invigorating her spirit. She was young, with many years ahead of her and plenty of time to walk a different path. Even if the handholds crumbled in her grasp, she would climb out of her rut just like she had before. With as much power as she could muster, she bellowed,

“You’re wrong, demon! As long as I'm still breathing, I still have a chance. Leave!"

The creature screeched as though struck and flung itself into the smog, retreating into the sky. Surprised, she let out the breath she'd been holding and took in her surroundings.

Towers of stone rose from the earth, shimmering with muck. The stalks of long-dead plants and trees jutted from the few patches of dirt that littered the ground. Crumbling statues guarded an altar, atop of which stood a massive hooded figure, impaled through the back by a shimmering blade. It knelt, watching and weeping a never-ending flood of red.

It couldn’t be possible, and yet the scene was all too familiar. The foul ichor, the absence of life, the crack of lightning through the deep green miasma of the sky.

 _This_ was the Fade. 


	2. From Those Emerald Waters

It couldn't be possible, yet the evidence towered above her in its morbid grandeur. This was the Fade, and Despair had dragged her there.

Whether from adrenaline or the lingering effects of Despair, Ari could hear her heartbeat pounding against her eardrums. Despite the power that saved her from the demon, she felt frozen, transfixed by the crying statue above her.

How could this possibly be the Fade? The Fade didn't exist! It was a realm of dreams from a video game she played _way_ too often, and even _there_ no one could enter it physically. It _had_ to be a nightmare. And yet, the overwhelming scent of death and the overabundance of green felt _real_. The icy hand that had gripped her wrist and the rasping voice that had echoed through her mind felt _real_. The sensation of sinking into the darkness and the warmth that rested behind her heart felt _real_. 

Pain in the palms of her hands pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced down, frowning at the fists that had clenched themselves to the precipice of drawing blood. It hurt, but it brought her back to the present. She took a deep breath. 

_Think now, panic later._

She turned to face the mirror—no, the _eluvian—_ behind her. She took a step towards it, noting that its once shimmering surface was now a matte silver. She reached out to touch it, cursing when her hand pressed flat upon the glass. 

Not only was she in the Fade, but it appeared she was stuck. 

_The eluvian activated_ some _how,_ she thought. Her eyes gave a cursory glance to the ground before tracing the ornate frame of the magical doorway. _There must be a way to activate it again. Wasn't there a password...?_

Keeping her voice soft to avoid more unwanted attention, she murmured, " _Fen'Harel Enansal._ " 

She paused, waiting. The mirror remained disappointingly still. 

_Well... Shit_. 

She kept a hand on the surface of the mirror and ran the other through her hair, a tangled mess that had long since fallen from the bun she'd worn to work. Either Briala hadn't set the passwords yet, or the Fade existed outside of Dragon Age.

She wasn't sure which alternative was worse. Either way, _some_ thing activated the eluvian. Could the demon have had the power on its own? If that were true, it likely wouldn't have fled from something as simple as a shout. 

_"That's true."_

Her heart skipped a beat as a new voice rang through the silence. She yelped and spun on her heel to face its owner, a woman with a face all too familiar. 

_"But a 'simple shout' isn't what saved you."_ The woman smirked, a twinkle in her vivid blue eyes. Her golden-brown hair was tucked neatly behind a pair of pointed ears and draped over the shoulder of her royal blue jacket. Her skin, dotted with freckles, seemed to glow through the mist. She was striking compared to the backdrop of the Fade, as though she had absorbed the missing saturation from the rocks and soil. Though she'd turned away from the mirror, Ari found herself facing her own idealized reflection, the one she made in almost every game.

"Who are you?" Ari asked, realizing for the first time the dryness of her throat. The woman smiled. 

_"I am the beat in the oldest heart,"_ she said, her voice like melted honey. She took a step closer and Ari stood her ground.

_"I am a ghost in the dreams of those who yearn for freedom."_ She reached out a gentle hand to brush the loose strands of hair from Ari's face. Ari couldn't help but close her eyes at the warmth of the woman's touch. Her voice dropped to a murmur. 

_"I wait in the darkest moments for those brave enough to reach for the light. I am—"_

"Hope." Ari opened her eyes to meet the woman's proud gaze. 

The spirit smiled and dipped its head forward. _"You found me in the clutches of Despair. Even now, you seek to unlock the door armed with nothing but the fleeting knowledge of fiction. 'Tis a rare thing to find in a place so bleak."_

Ari blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. With a nervous chuckle, she said, "Oh, you know. Plenty of time to panic when it all sets in." 

Hope laughed, like the silver bells of a Christmas sleigh. _"And yet, you intend to make it that far, even standing physically in the Fade as you are."_

For a moment, Ari felt the pressure returning. What she assumed was a simple headache brought on by exhaustion and Despair's influence must have been the Fade's effect on humans. She swallowed, wincing. The Fade weakened humans; it followed that it would only get worse the longer she stayed. She had to find a way out.

The spirit placed a hand on her shoulder, sending a pulse of warmth that soothed the ache in her head. 

_"This eluvian activated through an unknown force,"_ the spirit began, gesturing to the mirror. _"A pulse that swept through the Fade and powered_ some _its companions, but only for a short time."_

Ari turned back to the mirror's unmoving surface. "So, my world..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. 

The spirit hummed in affirmation. _"I am sorry. Despair kept you for too long."_

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Is there another one?" 

_"There are many other doors,"_ the spirit began, _"but I know not where they lead."_

Ari wiped the water from her eyes before it could fall and nodded. "Alright," she said, hardening her voice as she turned to level her gaze on the Spirit of Hope. "Can you guide me?" 

It smiled. _"Yes, I can help you."_ The spirit took a step back and turned to the statue. _"There is...something I would ask of you in exchange."_

Ari cocked an eyebrow. It turned its head to look at her over its shoulder, its golden hair bunching up around its cheek. 

_"My kind is exceedingly rare,"_ it murmured, _"and we do not dare enter the realm of mortals, lest we risk twisting against our purpose. Hope is difficult to maintain in a weary world."_ It turned to meet her gaze earnestly. _"I would ask that you look for Hope in the bleakest of hearts and foster it, so that we may stem the tide of Despair and Fear."_

The request seemed difficult enough on its own, but there was more weight to it than Ari could place. She didn't think the spirit was intentionally withholding anything, but it was enough to give her pause. She tilted her head and moved her eyes from the spirit to the looming statue above, its bloody tears the antithesis to the spirit's plea. If she refused Hope's request, would that be the spirit's future? A towering monument to the sins of the living? To refuse would be to doom them both. 

Ari sighed and returned her gaze to Hope's shimmering blue eyes. After a moment, she held out her hand and said, "I'll do my best." 

The spirit grinned and clasped her hand in its own. A heat not unlike the heat that helped with Despair washed over her like a wave. She felt as though she'd just finished a relaxing spa day, complete with massage and an herbal tea. The pressure was gone and she felt better than she ever had before. She wasn't an athletic person by any means, but the electricity that seemed to flow through her veins made her feel as if she could run forever. When she looked around, the Fade felt a bit brighter and the air lost the weight of death. 

The spirit chuckled. _"As long as we are connected, you can survive. Come!"_ With one last look at the eluvian behind them, Ari followed the Spirit of Hope down the winding paths of the Fade. 

As they walked, Ari asked the spirit what it knew of the waking world. It didn't deal in absolutes, but from the minds of dreamers, it could see a terrible conflict draining the hopes of thousands. What had started with the hope of freedom had fallen into desperation as thousands fought for survival. Many of its brethren had twisted into Despair. From the spirit's descriptions, Ari was reminded of the war between mages and templars.

They traveled for what felt like hours, though the scenery changed very little. Her connection with Hope allowed her to see deeper shades of green and red, but much of the Fade was paths of squelching stone and pools of emerald water. Every so often, they would pass the translucent wisps that represented dreamers. Any shudders of fear or disgust that might've affected her were suppressed by Hope's warmth.

Without warning, Hope paused and Ari nearly rammed into her.

"What's going on?" she asked, but the spirit held up a finger to silence her. 

After a moment, it whispered, _"We are not the only ones seeking the eluvian."_

Ari swallowed the fear that began to sneak around Hope's influence. "Then let's hurry." 

The spirit nodded and the two broke out into a run. The spirit effortlessly navigated the debris on the ground, holding tightly to Ari's hand to prevent her stumbles. Ari knew that if she'd been holding hands with a person, they would have fallen flat almost immediately. 

The closer they got to her escape, the more fear slithered around Hope's defenses. Though she could still feel the spirit's warmth, her heart began to race and the energy that had helped her became nervous. When the eluvian finally appeared shimmering in the distance, she almost wept with relief, but the pair skidded to a halt when they heard _it_. 

The screams echoed through the Fade, piercing her soul like the death knell of a thousand cats. The green mist hid them well, but not well enough. Dozens of shapes emerged from the miasma, writhing as they clawed their way over cliffs and statues to the eluvian. 

_Terrors,_ she thought, and Hope nodded, its lips pressed into a grim line. 

Hope turned to her and placed both hands on her shoulders, its hands glowing as it poured more of its energy into her. The fear that threatened to paralyze her dimmed, but only just. 

_"We cannot allow them to pass through,"_ the spirit started. _"As you cross the threshold, I'll destroy it."_

Ari's eyes widened. "But what about you?" What would happen if Hope _died_? 

Her reflection smirked. _"A better fate than losing myself."_

Leaving no room to argue, Hope grabbed her by the arm once more and they sprinted down the path. Another scream pierced the Fade as the terrors caught wind of the flesh and blood human, ripe for the taking. They reached the eluvian as the terrors crested the final hill. Hope let go and turned to face the army, its body beginning to glow. 

_"Remember our bargain!"_ it called, opening its arms wide. 

The eluvian behind her began to flicker. She jerked her head between her savior and her salvation. Hope would die here, and it would be her fault! 

_"Please, Arianna! Step through!"_

At the sound of her name, she froze. The terrors' scream was so close she felt as though she'd never hear again. She clenched her fists and steeled her nerves. 

"NO!" she yelled, lunging towards Hope. Her arms wrapped around the spirit. She could feel its surprise before its heat threatened to overtake her. She couldn't help the wordless cry that escaped her lips as it burned through her core. 

This was Hope’s final stand. 

She screwed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, not letting go as she lunged backward, dragging herself and Hope through the portal. As they passed through the mirror, she felt the heat dissolve in her arms. She could feel the air whistling around her as she fell. The last thing she heard was a loud splash and the rushing of water in her ears as she plunged into the depths. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you for reading this latest chapter! I hope to get Chapter 3 up by middle of next week, but I also have a bit of studying to get to so wish me luck. ^-^' Comments are appreciated and encouraged!


	3. Awakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for notes.

A groan escaped Ari's lips as she breached the edge of consciousness. She felt worse than the morning after her misadventure with kickboxing. _Everything_ ached, and it took a moment before she could register anything else. 

Her body laid flat on a surface that had enough cushion that she couldn't mistake it for a floor, but wasn't _nearly_ comfortable enough to be her bed. Her mattress was old, but at least it wasn't _lumpy_. When she shifted to alleviate the pain, the friction of a rough sheet rubbed against her forearms. She took a deep breath to clear the fog that blanketed her mind, and the warm scent of wood smoke enveloped her.

_A fire? Where—_

The memories slammed into her like a bullet train. Her eyes shot open and darted around her, searching desperately for the being willing to give up everything for a stranger—for _her_. 

She pushed herself to sit and winced when her muscles protested. She pressed her hands into her thighs to relieve the tension, rolled her shoulders, and took stock of her surroundings. 

She sat upon a simple cot that stood beside a stone hearth. A small fire crackled within, bathing the sparse room in a soft, orange glow. On the other side of the fireplace stood another cot, untouched and mere feet from a shuttered window. A large, wooden wardrobe seemed to melt out of the wall's paneling in the farthest corner. 

She was dishearteningly alone. 

What happened to Hope? Had she made a mistake in trying to save it? The lore _did_ say that spirits found the waking world too confusing and rarely survived the journey. Her decision had been rash and ill-considered and likely made little difference in the spirit's fate. If pulling Hope through the eluvian killed it, leaving it behind would've done the same. 

She'd doomed Hope the second she entered the Fade. 

The smile, a golden sliver of moonlight against the bleakness of the Fade, flashed through her mind. _No good deed goes unpunished._ She rubbed at her wrist and sighed. She would have to find a way to investigate what actually happened. 

She pulled back the sheet and cringed when she noticed that her clothes were not, in fact, the same. A rough, half-sleeved tunic replaced her button-up, heavy and smelling faintly of crayons. Brown pants fit snuggly around her waist and felt unsettlingly waxy. She could feel the pressure of her bra still in place and muttered a 'thank you' for the little victories. 

She swung her legs over the side of the cot and braced herself, wincing at the coarse texture of the wooden floor on her bare feet. Her muscles _screamed_ as she stood, pushing through the wave of dizziness that threatened to knock her back into the darkness. She brought her hands to her temples to steady herself and, after a few moments, made her way to the wardrobe. 

She slung open the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she found her grey running shoes mixed in with a messy pile of clothes. Unfortunately, she couldn't find anything else. Not that it would've mattered, she realized, seeing as the only item she'd had with her before her 'adventure' had been her phone. 

_It's not like Thedas would have cell reception._

She slipped on her shoes, ignoring how gross they felt without socks, and made it halfway to the door when the knob began to jiggle. 

_Fuck_. 

She stopped midstep, eyes affixed to the door and heart pounding to escape her chest. Her skin tingled as a familiar warmth began to build within her core, chasing her pulse through her veins and to the tips of her fingers. 

The door opened. 

The dam broke. 

Energy flowed through her and enveloped her, crackling like lightning upon her skin. The air buzzed, and the fear that threatened to paralyze her melted into pure exhilaration. It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, but those few seconds were the most _powerful_ of her life. 

A wave of cold washed over her and the buzzing stopped. The heat in her veins retreated back into the smallest spark. She almost believed she imagined it all, but she still felt a profound loss.

A nervous chuckle brought her out of her reverie. 

" _Fen'Harel's tits_ , girl," the woman said, swirls of blue mist dancing around her fingertips. "'s a damn good barrier for flotsam we fished from the drink. Let's hope it didn't attract the wrong attention, aye?" She brushed her hands against her earthy brown coat, dismissing the mist as though it were nothing more than dust.

"What was that?" Ari asked, gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering. _And what the hell did you do to me?_

The woman winced. "Sorry about that. Side-effect of my magical suppression." She brushed the dark curls from her face, tucking them behind her distinctly pointed ears. The shadows on her sun-touch face moved to reveal the faint outline of green tattoos in the firelight. Seeing the suspicion in Ari's eyes, she shrugged and added, "Could've done much worse if I wanted to." 

"How comforting." 

The elf snorted. "Fair enough." She crossed her arms and gave her a once-over before motioning to the bed. "Have a seat. You look ready to keel over." 

_Yeah, thanks._ She sighed but stayed put. If the woman turned out to be some sort of psycho, she could at least make for the window. 

The woman threw her hands up in surrender. "Alright, have it your way," she said, her lips curled in a smirk. She placed a hand on her hip, shifting her weight in an exaggerated lean. "Quite the curious one, aren't we?" 

Ari blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"Well, I can't make head nor feet of you. For one, we found you in the middle of the Waking Sea, glowing like damned veilfire. Figured that's how you survived, for Dirthamin knows how long. You're a mage, but clearly you've never been Circle trained. If you were Dalish, you'd've been the Keeper's First, but you're a wee bit old to be bare-faced. No offense." 

Ari sputtered, but the woman continued before she could regain her composure. 

"And that _attitude_." She shook her head, her eyes glinting in the low light. "I'd be hard-pressed to find an elven servant that didn't obey every command." 

_Oh, don't tell me..._

"If it weren't for the ears, I'd've pegged you as a _human_ hedge mage." 

Her hands flew to her ears, and it took all her willpower to hold back a horrified squeal. They weren't large and felt more like Vulcan prosthetics, but they were there: two distinct points, too sensitive to be fake.

_Fuck, this cannot be real._

_But dreams don't usually last this long._

_I can't be a mage_ and _an elf!_

 _When did this even happen? I_ walked _here. Did... Did Hope do this?_

 _Did_ I _do this?_

A short, "Ahem," drew her from her thoughts. 

_Fuck, she's staring. Steel yourself, Ari. You can panic later._

She sighed, slumping her shoulders for effect. "To be honest," she started, turning her eyes to the dwindling fire, "I...don't know how I got there." In her periphery, she could see the elf's eyebrows shoot up. She trembled, letting some of the panic she'd tucked away seep into her voice. "I don't remember _anything_ , really." 

The woman gave a short whistle. " _Nothing_?" 

She shook her head. 

"Well," she huffed, "shit." The elf closed the distance between them, her footsteps muffled by the leather wrappings she wore in lieu of boots. She reached out her hand and hesitated before finally placing it on Ari's shoulder as a show of comfort. "I _have_ seen this sort of thing before, sailors found adrift that lost themselves," she said, her voice laced with sympathy. "Just work with what you've got, lass. Perhaps you'll find it again." 

It wasn't clear whether the woman _actually_ believed her or not, but Ari felt a bit guilty lying to her. The woman was so awkward in her reassurances that it _had_ to be genuine. A complete stranger and she'd _saved_ her, given her new clothes, and was even trying to _soothe_ her. She swallowed her shame and hoped it translated to worry on her face. 

"Do you at least know your name, _da'len_?" 

_Ugh, da'len. I'm pretending to be an amnesiac, not a child._ She frowned, playing it off as concentration. "Actually," she started, widening her eyes in what she hoped was surprise, "I think so. Arianna seems familiar." 

The elf chuckled and murmured, "Just a little mystery, aren't you?" She shook her head, took a step back, and smiled. "Well, Arianna, you can call me Sylvas. What say you to a spot of food? My treat!" 

This time, she was actually surprised. "T-thank you!" she stammered, following Sylvas as she turned to leave. "What did you mean by 'mystery'?" 

"Well, it sounds like an elven name," Sylvas explained, opening the door. "Translation doesn't make much sense, though.” 

Arianna quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head as she stepped through the doorway behind her. 

“'Circle of years'? 'Caged years'? 'Grateful barrier'?” Sylvas shook her head, frowning in confusing, before waving her hand dismissively. “As I said, sounds elven, but not quite. Translates poorly." Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she turned and smiled. “But that’s neither here nor there. C’mon, Ambrose makes the meanest turnip and barley stew this side of Denerim.”

 _Alright, Denerim. Let's hope this is_ after _the darkspawn invasion_.

_Mm, but the Breach is arguably much worse..._

_Is it too much to hope that this is an alternate universe where none of those things exist?_

_Considering this is already an alternate universe? Best not to confuse hope with naivete._

She blinked the thoughts away and followed Sylvas down the steps. As unappealing as soggy turnips sounded, she couldn't help but return the elf's smile with gratitude. She couldn’t compartmentalize forever, but she could at least wait to process and plan until _after_ a hot meal. 

* * *

A groan escaped his lips as he awoke, the sting of failure in every aching muscle. Shadows danced in the flickering veilfire, mocking. He had allowed Pride to dictate his actions, poured _everything_ into his focus only to find that his 'everything' simply wasn't enough. Another mistake to append to his ever-growing list. 

When he first touched the orb, he had felt the raw power, seen the ancient dreams swirling and slumbering in its core. It stirred something within him and in that moment, he _knew_ that his mistake could be undone. One burst would grant him the power to pull back the veil and piece together the world his Pride had torn asunder. _One burst_ would allow him to put an end to the threat the Evanuris, in their lust for power, unleashed. With one swift motion, he raised his orb skyward and—

Darkness. 

By some miracle, he survived. Four-thousand years without a body proved more difficult a transition than he anticipated. He could not have imagined the sheer _weight_ of the Veil on his spirit, how it pressed against him and restricted his very will. 

He allowed the Fade to pull him once more to its embrace. Until he could unlock his focus, he would be unable to perform his duty alone; yet, he knew the pitfalls of trust and dependence well enough to walk the forest drunk and blindfolded. How could he possibly take the risk of sharing even a _fragment_ of his burden?

Without the full force of his magic, he would need to stretch the Veil; after all, a sheet drawn taut is more easily pierced. The necessary artifacts lay scattered across the world, impossible to reach without the paths his People once walked. He would need to wrest control of the network from a particularly cunning adversary, a self-proclaimed 'Choice Spirit' with a desire for raw chaos. He knew exactly where to find it, had felt the Fade tremble at its summoning and tremble still as it pressed against its cage. 

And he knew that, despite his reservations, his remaining agents would go where he sent them. He would draw back his bow with judicious precision and let loose into the sky. With patience, his arrow would find its mark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated and encouraged! :)


	4. Gwaren

> “The magister lords of the Tevinter Imperium were widely reputed to have been so affected by their years of lyrium use that they could not be recognized by their own kin, nor even as creatures that had once been human.” 

Ari grimaced, gently laying the borrowed tome on the bed in front of her. _Genitivi really covered everything, didn’t he? Don’t drink the spooky titan blood, Ari._ With the ghost of a chuckle, she thought, _RIP to them, but I’m different_. With a groan, she stretched her arms above her and rolled her head to work out the crick in her neck. 

_In Pursuit of Knowledge_ was proving to be an...interesting read, to say the least. Spoken Common sounded exactly like English, but _written_ Common looked more like jagged shapes than letters. Thankfully, she'd waited until she was alone to open the book. She would've had a difficult time explaining her confused squinting when it turned to shock as the words swirled into something that made _sense_.

Sadly, the beginnings of sugar withdrawal were making it difficult to concentrate. That and the enchanted necklace Sylvas had given her to prevent accidental outbursts of magic. The runes inscribed in the small, round crystal left her with a constant chill and a mild headache behind her eyes. 

She reached for the tiny, blue scrap of cloth — the remains of her favorite jacket — and tucked it as close to the spine as she could manage, careful to avoid adding more scars to its well-worn pages. If she were home, she'd go for a brisk walk next to her apartment or continue her _Supernatural_ binge. The irony of being mere months away from an ending to her _ridiculous_ TV show and transporting to another dimension was not lost on her. That she had little else to care about concerned her.

She sighed, pushing the thoughts away as she stood and pulled her journal from beneath the mattress. When she'd asked for one to keep herself busy while Sylvas and her crew were off doing "errands," the elf seemed surprised she knew how to write. She worried she might've given herself away — and the jury's still out on that — but Sylvas agreed, and a journal appeared on the nightstand one morning, along with what looked to be a stick of lead wrapped in string. Once she figured out how to grip the "pencil", she'd written some of her favorite song lyrics, since little else had happened worth writing.

No more than a week had passed since Ari woke up, and she'd spent almost the entire time in the little room she shared with Sylvas. She _did_ think it was on-brand of herself to find boredom in a new universe. She would eat in the main area, surrounded by sailors, soldiers, and the scent of ale, and then return to her room to read, write, and enter a dreamless sleep. Then, either due to magical jet-lag or emotional fatigue, she'd awaken in the afternoon and repeat. Every now and then, a member of Sylvas's crew would keep her company, usually Manny.

Manny was probably the only qunari in the region, a fact which seemed to make him _really_ uncomfortable. Though he was perpetually the tallest person in the room, his spine hunched and folded like a wet newspaper, which only served to bring his curled horns and silver hair closer to eye-level. Every time she’d seen him, he wore muted browns and a cautious smile, refusing to let himself stand out. On her first night, they'd shared an awkward conversation over the garlicky turnip "stew", but when she shared her backstory he straightened and immediately offered suggestions.

“I’ve read about that!” he’d said, his taupe cheeks flush with excitement. “I’ve heard that exposure to familiar places or concepts can trigger memories!” Thus, he loaned her his favorite book, _In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar_. “Brother Genitivi traveled _everywhere._ There’s bound to be _some_ thing to help you!” 

It was a sweet gesture, especially given that Ari would have to stay secluded per Sylvas’s judgement. An untrained mage would be a danger to everyone, including herself, so until she "remembered" having magic she'd be stuck in the tavern with Sylvas's necklace. Considering she never had magic to begin with, she was starting to regret her choice of backstory.

Varric’s in-game words echoed through her mind. _“That’ll get you every time. Should’ve spun a story.”_

Leaning over the nightstand, she opened her journal to the section she’d dubbed, “Notes to Self,” in block letters. She kept her list vague in the small chance that _some_ one could read the English alphabet, with notes like, “Improv training,” and, “No MCs.” At the bottom, she added, “NO LYRIUM,” with an unreasonable amount of underscores and an angry face, for good measure. 

The door clicked open behind her. She snapped straight, slammed the journal shut, and winced.

_Well,_ that _wasn’t suspicious_.

She turned in time to hear the door close with a _bang_ and Sylvas let out a hiss in response. 

The elf was clad in fancier garb than she would’ve expected. Instead of the dull colors she used as camouflage, she wore a deep emerald duster with gold trim and vines embroidered on the lapel. Boots etched in a similar design replaced her leather foot-wrappings and showed little dirt or wear. A matching tricorn sat atop her head and held her umber curls in a style that conveniently covered her ears. The tattoos on her face seemed more translucent, tracing the angles of her face like the shading in a comic book.

She didn’t seem to notice Ari’s inquisitive stare as she brought a hand to her temple and shook her head. 

“What was the occasion?” Ari asked as she nonchalantly sat on the bed, pulling Manny's book open beside her.

“This client was,” Sylvas paused, pursing her lips, “ _higher class_ than most.” She crossed the room to the wardrobe, swung open the doors, and began rifling through the mess of clothes she’d left within. “The client couldn’t give two shits, mind you, but his _entourage_ …” She looked over her shoulder and waggled her eyebrows. “Gotta look as expensive as the bill.” She pulled a large canvas sack from God-knows-where and opened the drawstring. 

Ari watched her over the pages of the tome as she shoved garments into its mouth. “So I guess you’ll be traveling then?” She bit the inside of her lip, trying to contain her growing anxiety. Sylvas had been too busy to teach her so removing the necklace wasn't an option, but she could barely remember the self-defense class she'd half-assed in college. If the wrong people knew she was alone...

Sylvas hummed as though reading her thoughts. “ _We’ll_ be traveling, lass,” she corrected, without even sparing a glance. “In a few hours, actually.” 

“Wait, seriously?” She slammed the book shut, dumbfounded. “I don’t know how to _do_ anything!” 

“Perfect time to learn, aye?” The elf pulled the drawstring tight and tied it with a complicated knot before turning with a smirk. “‘Sides, I’m not exactly made of coin. My ‘helper’s discount’ only goes so far. Gotta have _some_ thing to pay my men.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” 

Sylvas leaned her bag against the wall and sat on the bed across from Ari, nearest the hearth. She lit the fire with a wave of her hand and Ari, who’d given up on maintaining it and resigned herself to a slight chill, sighed at its warmth. 

“Now,” Sylvas began, leaning her elbows on her knees with her hands clasped, “we’ve got some time before we ship out. What say you to some basics? Reigning in that aura of yours?” 

Ari moved the book aside and grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Her first real glimpse of Denerim was unimpressive and short. Their inn had been mere meters from the outer gate and the dirt path squished as they walked despite the clear, orange skies of sunset. As the band of mercenaries exited the gates of the city, Ari stole a glance beyond the river. She almost froze at the sight of Fort Drakon's rigid spire looming over the oppressive stone walls of the noble district. Which hero brought an end to the Blight on that spire? Did they survive? Who did they place upon the throne? Before the possibilities swept her away, she found herself ushered out of the iron gate and into the woods beyond.

They were five travelers in all, each with a small supply of rations and potions. They’d left most of their belongings in the care of Ambrose, the innkeeper, for a fee that at least _sounded_ reasonable by game standards. 

Sylvas lead the group, her fancier garb abandoned in favor of olive-tinted leathers lined with small, shimmering scales. She'd been eager to reapply her leather foot-wrappings, which she claimed were far more comfortable than boots. Several glittering rings adorned her left hand which rested on the hilt of a thin sword, covering the soft blue glow of its crystalline pommel.

To her right walked Guts, a stocky dwarven woman with fiery red hair and a perpetual flush. The self-proclaimed medic carried a pack full of spare potions, bandages, and herbs that clinked with each step. Her studded leather armor looked molded from red clay, not as flashy as Sylvas’s shamelessly elvhen attire. 

Martel took the rear of the party. Judging from his cobalt padded jacket, his gunmetal breastplate and grieves, and his massive war hammer, he appeared to be the only warrior. The raven-haired elf was larger than the waifish models the game provided, and Ari would've mistaken him for a human had it not been for the pointed tips peaking through his waves.

Manny walked alongside Ari in the middle. As the tallest member of the group, he carried the camping supplies. The wooden tent poles in his pack clattered with each step, and he offered her an apologetic smile when he noticed her wince. He seemed more comfortable outside of the city, his posture straightening to reclaim several inches of his height. His size made it difficult to tell whether the weapons sheathed at his belt were swords or daggers, and his brown leather armor would work for either a rogue or a warrior. She hoped she'd never get the chance to see his fighting style in action.

The journey was quiet, save for the unavoidable clinking of armor and supplies. The band of travelers walked in silence, eyes scanning the tree line. She hadn't heard the details of the job, but she had a feeling the stakes were a bit higher than she thought. Manny noticed her discomfort, shot her a weak smile, and shrugged, jostling the tent poles and drawing an irked glance from Martel.

They walked the sunset-lit path until they came to a fork in the road and stopped. Sylvas nodded to Guts, who pulled out an unlit torch. With a wave of the elf's hand, it burst to life and burned white with her magic.

“Finally,” a voice called out from the trees, startling no one but Ari.

A hooded figure stepped out of the rustling undergrowth, a silhouette against the setting sun. “I was starting to believe this was an elaborate prank.” 

Sylvas chuckled. “Oh, aye, I’d inconvenience m’self _this_ much for a joke. What’s the gag?” 

“I hadn’t decided." He stepped closer and pulled back his hood, revealing dirty blonde fringe that looked almost too messy to be an accident. His brown eyes glinted with mischief in the torchlight and a wry smile played across his stubbled features. "I figured I'd wake up in my small clothes outside of the Pearl with the guard scrambling to protect my decency."

Sylvas rolled her eyes and smirked. “Ah, a man of the people.” 

The two began walking down the western path, bantering amongst themselves as Sylvas motioned the group to follow. They walked until the sun peaked above the horizon and finally settled at a clearing by the river. It was quiet but for the swishing of the water, and Manny let out an exaggerated groan as he freed himself of the tent gear. Martel sighed and fished out gear for one complete tent, making his way to the other side of the clearing with Sylvas and the stranger as Guts gave Manny a friendly kick to the shin. Ari tried to ignore the fact that the dwarf's head only reached his waist, especially since Ari didn't even reach his shoulders.

She cleared her throat. With a glance at the stranger, engrossed in his conversation with Sylvas, she lowered her voice and asked, “So, who is that exactly?” 

“Well,” Manny started, tilting his head, “We sort of just call him ‘Gwaren’.” 

Ari frowned. “Is that where he’s from or something?” She thought about Anders, nicknamed after his father’s heritage. 

This earned a belly-laugh from the dwarf, who mocked wiping a tear from her eye. The three on the other side of the clearing turned their heads but continued to set up camp after an awkward wave from Manny. 

“No, no, the _cheese_ !” she finally managed to squeeze out. She paused to catch her breath. “It’s more of a ‘had-to-be-there’ sort of name. I can’t stand the stuff, but he’s an absolute _fiend_ . Gwaren and Sylvas have known each other for longer than I’ve been with her. At least since the Blight.” She looked up to Manny, who shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, they fought together or something. Now he’s a man of means who hires us for escort jobs when he wants to keep a low profile.” 

Ari nodded slowly, trying to crush her rising suspicions before the worry could show on her face. _A handsome stranger who fought in the Blight and likes cheese. That’s not a lot to go on, so maybe stop jumping to conclusions?_ “So you’re saying he tries to keep a low profile by being the only human in a band of mercenaries?” 

Manny snorted. “Well, when you put it like that…” Guts elbowed his thigh and he feigned a pout. 

“ _Point_ is,” she continued, “he’s a good man, _and_ he’s good with a sword, which helps him blend in while _you_ be the decoy.” 

Ari choked. “Be the _what_?” 

Guts’s eyes widened and the rest of her face grew to match the flush of her cheeks. “Well, uh, anyway, I should set up a tent or...something.” She hastily scooped up supplies and shuffled to the center of the clearing, leaving Ari to sputter. Manny shook his head and got to work staking the edges of the remaining tarp, ignoring her stare but blushing nonetheless.

She took a deep breath and repeated. “Be the _what_?” 

He sighed and shot her an apologetic smile as he reached for the longest pole and slid it through an opening in the canvas. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to act... _different_. It’s nothing to worry about, but I _am_ sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” 

She shook her head with a sigh. _It’s alright, Ari, pretty much nothing has changed. You’re still the one they have to protect if we’re attacked by bandits or something._

_How comforting to be the damsel in distress…_

“So,” Manny started, barely masking his discomfort, “how’s Genitivi treating you?” 

Ari huffed out a laugh, the tension eased. “I finished reading his findings on lyrium this morning, actually.” She screwed her face in disgust. “Is it true that regular lyrium can cause _mutations_?” 

He chuckled at her expression. “You’d need to take more than Orzammar would sell, for at _least_ a quarter of an age. But I’m not a mage, I wouldn’t know.” He frowned. “Wait, did you say ‘regular’ lyrium? As opposed to what?” 

_Oops._ “Well, I mean, people could probably enchant it or something, right?” _Nice save._

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t know, to be honest. Orzammar keeps a tight hold on research, so.” He shrugged, adjusting the upright poles and checking the tension of the canvas. 

She hummed and left him to his work. It didn’t take long before all three tents were pitched and the bedrolls laid out. She wondered how someone as tall as Manny could sleep in something that looked so small, but, as he would be sharing a tent with Martel, it was a mystery she would be hard-pressed to solve. When she bid the two goodnight, she caught the sound of murmured French _—_ _Orlesian_ _—_ and wondered if that was why Martel had yet to speak around her.

Sylvas and Gwaren had already turned in for the night, leaving Guts to keep the first watch. Despite the chill in the air, Guts explained that they were still too close to Denerim to risk lighting a fire so the bedroll would have to do. She entered their tent and wriggled herself into the pitiful sleeping bag. The wool was soft, unlike whatever cloth they’d used at the inn, though she still had trouble deciding which was more comfortable. On one hand, a lumpy bed; on the other, _the actual ground._ Soon enough, exhaustion intervened and she found herself drifting into an uncomfortable sleep. 

The morning seemed to come too quickly. She opened her eyes, dismayed by the soft glow shining through the canvas of her tent. She frowned and sat up, noticing with confusion that the bedroll beside her was empty. She crawled to the opening of the tent and paused, listening for signs of movement. 

It was quiet. 

With growing trepidation, she peeled back the flap and peered outside. The other tents stood in their places, untouched. She stilled once more, listening for the sounds of the forest or even snores from the other tents. 

Nothing. 

_Oh, I’m gonna regret this_ … 

As slowly as she could manage, she crept out of the tent. The warmth that had protected her twice before grew within her, trying its damnedest to settle the thumping in her chest.

_Where the hell did they go?_

No signs of struggle, no footprints on the earth. The camp was immaculate, and far too _quiet_. 

A sharp _snap_ pierced the air, echoing like a whip. 

She spun on her heels, eyes darting through the trees. Her heart skipped as her eyes met six baleful embers, suspended in the shadows.

With dreadful synchronicity, they blinked.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I got caught in a loop of perpetual rewrites, so this took a bit longer than intended, so thank you for your patience!
> 
> Once again, comments are appreciated and encouraged. I'm new to writing and would love feedback. :)


	5. The Dreamer

Ari’s heartbeat pounded against her eardrums as her eyes remained fixed on the shadow, a black hole between the trees. Its penetrating gaze locked her in place even as the familiar warmth crept through her veins and urged her to _move_. 

She faintly remembered the advice given to her on her first camping trip: “Never look a bear in the eyes. It might see it as a challenge.” 

_Well, I’m already staring at it, and it’s not a damned bear._

_It’s alright, just… Think first, panic later._

She took a deep breath, clawing at her memory for something in the camp she could use to defend herself. She had to repress a groan when it finally occurred to her. 

_None of this is real, is it?_

As though waiting for the cue, the scene melted away, its set pieces twisting into tiny wisps of light that hovered in the green mists of the Fade. The ground beneath her shifted to hold a texture that seemed almost organic, like a reef stretching beyond the horizon in an endless green sea.

The strange creature remained in place, no longer shielded by trees but shrouded in an inky, black mist. It seemed to shift as though affected by an imperceptible wind, revealing the edges of a figure, tall and imposing. Its amorphous eyes hung in the air like a tattered curtain, concealing whatever face it might’ve had with an eerie veil. 

Though the trepidation, a brief question fluttered across her mind: _Hope, are you out there?_

Silence. No words of comfort, no light to chase away the darkness. Silence, and the prickling sensation of scrutiny.

She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw to steel herself. The warmth of her magic reached the tips of her fingers and overtook her, giving her a sense of bravery that she knew, deep down, was borderline foolish. 

“So,” she started, her voice resonating. “You’re the only real thing here.” She crossed her arms. “Isn’t it _rude_ to enter dreams uninvited?”

The figure stiffened. Tendrils of shadow began to shake as a distorted noise drifted from the void, muffled but loud enough to recognize. 

_Wait, is that...a chuckle? Is it laughing at me?!_

She opened her mouth to respond, only to have the wind stolen from her lungs as the scene shifted and an unseen force wrenched her from the Fade. A sharp odor assaulted her senses as she breached awareness and she bolted upright with a yelp, coughing to force the fire from her chest. 

“There we go,” a voice sounded beside her, with an air of satisfaction.

She wiped her watering eyes and squinted at the dwarf kneeling beside her, corking a small, white bottle. “What the _hell_ _?!"_ she rasped, clutching at her neck. 

Guts furrowed her brow. “The what?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll assume you were cursing at me.” 

Ari shot her a glare as she tried to suppress her choking. 

Guts shrugged. “Had to make sure you weren’t a corpse, Drifty. Can you imagine if you’d _died_ while sharing a tent with the medic? I’d be out of a job! I’d _never_ live it down.” 

Ari cleared her throat and sniffled. “I’m _touched_.” 

The ‘medic’ smirked and wiggled the bottle in Ari’s face. “Smelling salts. Smells like piss, right? I swear, I _did_ try shaking you first!” She tucked the bottle into one of the pouches around her belt and her expression softened. “Really, though, you okay? You were in some sort of trance or something.” 

_A trance?_

Ari frowned and reached for her waterskin, tossed to the corner of the tent with her pack. She took a sip, grimacing at the burning in her throat and the faint taste of leather as Guts waited patiently for her to finish. 

_What do I say that isn’t suspicious or concerning?_ She pursed her lips. “Well, I was in the Fade," she started, her voice slow as she watched Guts’s face for her reaction. “So maybe that has something to do with it?”

The dwarf hissed. “Glad I don’t have to deal with that Fade shit. Sounds _creepy_.” She stood, ducking her head a bit to avoid touching the canvas of the tent. “Sorry for the rude awakening, but we actually need to ship out. You should ask the captain about that later, she probably knows about…all _that._ ” With an uncomfortable wave of her fingers, she scurried out of the tent.

Ari sighed. _Fingers crossed she won’t say anything behind my back._

She sat with her arms in her lap, eyes drifting closed to chase away the remnants of sleep. The shock of sudden consciousness waned and lethargy began to settle. She felt like she'd pulled an all-nighter.

 _Maybe that’s what it’s like with the Fade._

If she succumbed to the sensations, she could almost believe she was back in her apartment, procrastinating until she left for work. She shook her head and pulled the journal and stylus from her pack. She opened the journal to fresh parchment, but hesitated. What if someone _could_ read her journal? How could she possibly record her dream without sounding like an abomination?

A shadowy figure with six glowing eyes... It wasn't a wolf, per se, but most multi-eyed denizens of the Fade would rather attack or strike up a conversational trap than watch from the bushes. She couldn't deny the striking imagery, but it didn't make _sense._

_The Dread Wolf doesn’t visit dreams door-to-door like an Avon rep._

_Unless he somehow knows I’m not from this world…_

_Ugh, I wasn’t built for_ actual _danger._

_Well, you wanted something new, Ari. Welcome to the New._

She scratched out a few vague notes and returned the journal to her pack. She took another sip from her waterskin and shuddered. The water prickled like tiny thumbtacks along the back of her throat, more raw from the coughing than the smelling salts. She reached up to rub at her neck and paused as her fingers brushed against the crystalline charm resting against her collarbone.

 _I wonder_ …

She pulled the necklace over her head, wincing as it caught on a few hairs, and shoved it into her pocket for safe keeping. 

_I've gotta start somewhere. If I died doing something this simple, I suppose I'd deserve it._

She wiggled out of her bedroll and sat with her legs crossed. With a deep breath, she loosened her shoulders and closed her eyes. Sylvas’s brief lesson on control reminded her of meditation techniques on earth. She’d dabbled to improve her focus in college, so in theory she could better learn by drawing on those experiences. 

She breathed in once more and envisioned herself as a neutral blue. The pain shone as a translucent, angry red, and her aura glittered like a spark of pale purple electricity dancing around her heart. With each breath, she saw the spark spread outward like a current, her veins like wires connected to a generator. Its heat radiated through her body and, as the color reached her fingertips, she pictured the calm of a campfire on a cold winter's day. As she reached her hand to her throat, she let the sensation wash over her, magic thrumming beneath her skin.

She felt as though she’d taken a sip of warm, ginger root tea laced with the smoothest honey. The pain faded as though rinsed away, replaced by the soothing color of her magic. It rippled through her being, dousing the ache in her head and the last sputtering embers of doubt. She breathed a sigh of relief and visualized her aura retreating back into its resting place, as Sylvas had shown her. 

_Oh, wow._

“Still good, Driftwood?” Guts called, muffled by canvas. 

She smiled, to relaxed to jump. “Yeah, just a second!” 

She slipped on her pack, shoved her still sockless feet into her running shoes, and got to work rolling her bedroll as tight as she could manage. She hummed in amusement at the sight of a shoelace knot in rope, tucked it beneath her arm, and left the tent for the soft golden light of early morning. 

Sylvas and Gwaren seemed deep in discussion over a well-worn map as Manny and Martel worked to make the camping supplies more manageable. When she cleared the tent, Guts immediately got to work unstaking the canvas and, with a lingering smile, Ari moved to help. 

She wondered if Sylvas had shared the details of the mission with her crew. They knew Ari was a decoy in case of bandits, but she hadn’t caught a hint of a destination, not even on the tail-end of a conversation. More than that, she couldn’t begin to guess the dangers lurking along the path. Hope had mentioned a vague conflict, but Thedas was so war-torn that it could’ve been pretty much anything. The only information she’d confirmed was, “A Blight happened once,” since apparently Sylvas and Gwaren fought in one. If the Dread Wolf truly visited her dream, his presence would at least confirm that some parts of the game existed, but she would have to figure out the rest if she wanted to get home. 

As the group set off along the West Road, she found that, for now, she didn’t mind not knowing. Whether it was the unabated high of her first real spell or the feel of crisp, unpolluted air in her lungs, the fog that had chased her across _dimensions_ seemed to evaporate in the warmth of the rising sun. While this wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d thought about change, she’d be a fool to let melancholy ruin this chance. Come Dread Wolf, Blight, Breach, or no, she could afford at least a _little_ adventure. 

* * *

The dreamer disappeared with a _pop_ , taking with her the bulk of the unfamiliar energies which had drawn him to her campsite like a wisp to veilfire. In the midst of the reflection she’d stood as a beacon, her aura like lightning against the altered sky and edged in shimmering gold. It had bled through the Veil like ink through paper, wheedling its way into the Fade with its foreign pressure. 

_“Isn’t it rude to enter dreams uninvited?”_

The question had startled him and, pointed as it was, burned the tips of his ears. Truthfully, he hadn’t intended to breach the dream of another. When he felt the ripples in the Veil, he’d assumed the culprit to be a spirit or a phenomenon unique to the modern Fade. 

_“Isn’t it rude to enter dreams uninvited?”_

Amusement had tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. The intoxication of a mystery, the clumsy audacity, the raw _power_ that oozed from a form so small, and the _absurdity_ of his apparent inability to sneak all worked together to overpower his restraint.

As the dreamer vanished from the Fade, he dismissed the shadows with a wave of his hand. Had he been at full power, his cloak would not have failed so utterly. With palms outward, he extended his aura, sifting through the ambient energies of the Fade for remnants of her magic. With a delicate touch, he analyzed each small strand before it could dissolve into meaningless noise. 

That he crossed the barrier to her dream with so little resistance he failed to notice implied a complete lack of skill; however, the aura she emitted revealed a potential beyond his admittedly meager expectations. Was she an anomaly? A unique and unusual mage born with promise? Or was she simply a dreamer born beneath the Veil, given that he had yet to encounter one? With time, he could have used that undiluted power. He could have coaxed her to his cause, had his mission not been so imperative.

But time was a luxury he could ill afford to waste. As the last tendrils of magic faded from his grasp, he centered his thoughts on more immediate opportunities. If asked, his friends would keep him apprised of the mysterious dreamer. If all else failed, it would serve him well to have a contingency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks for reading! This chapter took a bit longer to put out than intended, but such is the life of studying for the CPA exam. 😅 Comments and feedback are appreciated! 😊


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